


Same Old Love

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Love, M/M, Romance, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9784748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Tim's receiving gifts and he has no idea from whom. The confusion has been going on for months, becoming more and more frequent the closer and closer they get to Valentine's Day. Thing is, he's getting them as Red Robin, not at Tim Drake, and that's twice as confusing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTimWeek:VDE Secret Admirer - Day 3 Feb 16th  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Same Old Love" by Selena Gomez

**The First Gift**

Gotham's air was somehow refreshing after spending months roaming with the Teen Titans. It just felt good to be home and there was no denying that. He'd let the rest of the family know he'd be taking up a piece of their patrol simply for the sake of doing _something_ with himself. Doing nothing had a way of driving him crazy, of opening old wounds and forcing him to dwell on them when he didn't want to. So it stood to reason that he'd need to do anything he could to keep himself from going down such a path, especially when he was in town specifically at Alfred's request given how down in the dumps Bruce had been lately.

He took a run for the edge of the next building and leapt off, heading right for his old resting spot. It overlooked the worst park in all of Gotham, gave him a reason to pause and the potential for recuperation that was more than necessary in a night-long endeavor to clean up a city as plagued by its underbelly as Gotham was. 

Three rooftops and he dropped down onto his building, taking careful steps to the side overlooking the park and dropping down right next to the AC unit. Something glittered to his right and he flicked a glance to it. His emblem was emblazoned on a metallic sticker holding a simple envelope to the wall. 

Ever careful, Tim did a quick check of the area and - seeing no one - slid his rebreather into his mouth, not wanting to inhale anything that might come from opening it. He slid the envelope free without the sticker, avoiding contact with the adhesive, and lifted the unsealed flap. A single gift card lay inside the envelope to a coffee joint central to Gotham. It was a sort of chain store, but the only one Gotham boasted, having recently moved in.

Tim examined the card, carefully slid it into the lead-lined pouch he carried to block any signal it might be trying to relay if someone were duping him and slid the envelope into an evidence bag along with the sticker, which had come mostly loose by itself. 

Someone screamed in the park and Tim tucked the strange little gift away: a mystery for another time. Right now, there were people to save, crimes to fight.

**The Second Gift**

Tim landed hard on the concrete next to his safe house. Picking himself off the ground, he groaned. His body seriously had far more than enough for the day. Exhaustion hedged into his bones, his mind reeling from not only the lack of sleep, but the increase in the criminal element of this damn city. Only a week and it'd gone from this city to this _damn_ city and he knew just how depressing that was.

Two stumbling steps and he froze, staring at the door to the rundown home on the edge of Gotham that he'd always used as a safe house. Stuck to the door was another of those damn holographic Red Robin emblem stickers and sitting on the porch was what appeared to be a gift basket. A little windblown, a little beat up from being out here all night in the elements, but he could tell it hadn't been there _that long_. 

He forced himself into a careful sweep of the area before landing himself back down - a little gentler this time - on his porch. He crouched to examine the basket, lifted up the note attached and read it. The handwriting didn't look familiar, but it gave hope of a better trace at least.

_RR, You looked like you needed this when I saw you yesterday. -A Fellow V_

Tim carefully opened it, mindful of any sort of trap, took it apart outside of his apartment so as to not take any risks, finding only a bag of fully-sealed and vacuum packed coffee from a company called Overdose. He'd heard of it, knew the packaging looked completely legit and it felt like every other vacuum sealed coffee he'd ever touched. A glass press was the only other item in the basket. 

Plucking it from the ground, Tim gave one more glance around, peeled the sticker from the door, and let himself inside, giving the inside the same treatment as the outside, finding regret in the fact that this was his only safe house without external cameras. 

**The Third Gift**

The third gift was _absurd_. Tim could only fathom it to be a gift in respect of the fact that two of the scumbags that had run away from him while he'd been in the thick of a fight had wound up dumped in the alley behind the restaurant, tied up together with the metallic Red Robin emblems slapped over their mouths. 

Both were out cold and with the police coming in hot, Tim had simply had to leave it. He lifted the stickers and sent up a prayer there was _something_ to go on this time. 

Whoever it was sending him these gifts, they were meticulous; almost ridiculously so. Always outside of the cameras, always quick enough to get away before he arrived, and never leaving a single trace of anything useful on the stickers. He'd discovered that the glue that covered them was spray on, negating the necessity to peel the sticker and it was clearly handled with gloves that had been on damn near every surface within Gotham city limits given the grime from them. But there wasn't anything distinct to go off of. Nothing more from one area than another; nothing _unique_. If anything, it proved that they likely were another vigilante, just as he'd assumed the 'V' had stood for on the last note. 

**The Fourth Gift**

Tim stared down at the small pile of items outside his favorite intelligence drop site. The same sticker hung loosely and _fresh_ on the edge of the little hollowed out statue in the midst of the botanical gardens. He'd been using this drop since he'd been _Robin_. 

Never one to let his guard down, Tim did his usual sweep to make sure the person wasn't still there and came back to crouch down in front of the items. 

Each one was something he'd lost on patrol over the years. A small pocket camera that Bruce had reamed him for losing, a simple gold keychain he'd been keeping for luck after Bart had given it to him. There were scraps of evidence that hadn't ended up mattering, but that he'd somehow lost during one fight or another, and - finally - the little pre-loaded mp3 player he'd lost his second night back in Gotham. 

Tim gathered them all up and gently peeled up the sticker before lifting the statue to find his drop had left everything and for a moment he considered if it had been them. But the envelope looked damp, as if it'd been here since the rain last night, but nothing in the pile had been here that long, all of it dry and some of it _warm_ according to the heat signatures in his goggles. Someone had dropped these very recently. 

Sighing, he stood up, pushed everything into the pouch he was carrying and turned away, leaving the botanical gardens behind, a certain curiosity brewing in his gut.

**The Fifth Gift**

Honestly, Tim was _expecting_ it when he found the next gift. This one came on Valentine's Day and this one sat perched on his counter in the kitchen. His coffee pot had turned on and the scent of Overdose coffee filled the apartment. 

A red mug sat beside the pot, a little Red Robin sticker neatly stuck to the handle, barely any of the sticky on the cup.

Tim _knew_ his home, knew no one could have come here that he didn't know without him being alerted in at least four different ways; which meant these gifts were coming from someone on his access list.

Picking up the mug, he gently removed the sticker, reached to attach it to a paper on his fridge and turned the mug to see what it said. _Sick of the same old love_ was written in elegant gold script across the cup, the S and the E swirling into delicate designs that dipped down into the cup itself. 

Tim huffed out a little breath, amusement filtering through him now. Turning on the faucet, he set about washing out the mug, settling it back down after he'd dried it and pouring some of his coffee into it. His mind flitted over who had been acting different toward him, could find no one that seemed like they'd outright be the one doing this, and settled on putting coffee in his system first.

He settled the pot back onto the burner and meandered toward the living room, lightly blowing on the steaming hot liquid. Curling up on his couch, he took a sip and then glanced back down at the text, wonder filtering through him as to how this _wasn't_ like the same old love if they were sending him secret admirer gifts. 

The gold was fading away, a deeper red text appearing behind it, reading _You're different._

Tim's heart sped up ever so slightly and he ducked his head, a stupid little blush slipping over his cheeks. Standing up, he moved back into the kitchen, pulling down the paper he'd stuck the emblem to, snatched up his pen and scrawled across it: _Just tell me who you are._ He left it on the counter, the bag of coffee holding it in place. 

He meandered into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. 

The shower was everything he needed, his muscles unwinding as the coffee wound its way through his system. By the time he crawled out and dried himself off, the coldness had ebbed from his very bones, leaving him more comfortable than he'd been in weeks. He pulled on fresh clothing he'd left out the night before and dried and styled his hair before leaving the bathroom. As he opened the door, he froze – door in one hand, mug in the other – at whom he saw.

Lounging against the back of his couch was Jason, his Red Hood outfit still on, as if he hadn't ever gone home the night before. Their eyes met for an instant before Jason looked away, one gloved hand reaching up to rub over the back of his head, a sheepish sort of expression on his face.

"I uh..." the faintest creak of leather and then, "honestly, I didn't plan this far. I figured you'd run for the hills before actually letting me say anything." Jason shifted awkwardly, staring somewhere to the left of Tim, gaze glued to the spot.

Tim finally got his legs to cooperate, making his way over to Jason, reaching to settle the mug on the small side table and then grabbing his jacket in both hands. His heart pounded in his chest and every breath felt like he had to drag it into his lungs as he stared up at Jason's clearly befuddled expression. "How could you _ever_ think I'd turn you away, Jay?"

Something like a sentence tried to sputter out of Jason's mouth, most of it a hopeless mess of English, the final few curses in Spanish, drawing Tim's lips into a grin as he stared up at him. Pushing himself up onto his tip-toes, Tim brought their lips so _very_ close, barely breathing out, "So I'm allowed to be the same old love, hmm?"

Jason's arms locked around him and Tim barely registered the, "Damn right," that came into existence a bare second before their lips were sealed, before he was living in a world where Jason Todd was kissing him senseless. Where the boy Tim had only dreamed of getting to know this well was walking into his life. Maybe not via the front door, but damn if it still wasn't everything he'd ever wanted. 

Tim eased into the kiss, an unstoppable smile on his lips. If this was the same old love, he'd never ever grow sick of it.


End file.
